


The Chronicles of Amber

by ItsaVikingThing



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Like a Roman aqueduct, Rachel tells a story, Things will get a bit arch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsaVikingThing/pseuds/ItsaVikingThing
Summary: Set six months afterNot the End of the World. You don't need to have read that, though.Rachel Amber has two problems.The first is that she seems to have developed feelings for the least available person at Blackwell Academy.The second is that the only people she can turn to for advice are Chloe Price and Max Caulfield.Rachel decides to tell them the whole story of her developing connection with Kate Marsh on a nice Spring day.Max and Chloe try to be a good audience.





	1. Amber Alert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Strictly speaking, this isn't a direct continuation of _Not the End of the World_ , because this is really Rachel's story. 
> 
> But it's set in the same AU, because I had too much fun writing that version of Rachel. There will be some Pricefield, too, for those curious as to where things went after that last story.
> 
> For those who haven't read it, here's all you need to know: In this AU, Max lived in Seattle her whole life and only met Chloe for the first time when she moved to Arcadia Bay to study photography under not ever Mark Jefferson.
> 
> After some awkward and flustered interactions, Max and Chloe began dating. 
> 
> Rachel is Chloe's best friend. She kinda helped get the other two together, though it wasn't the smoothest of processes.
> 
> That was about six months ago.
> 
> That should do it!
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoy!

It's Spring in Arcadia Bay.

The sun is in its glory and life abounds, giddy and unabashed.

Rachel Amber is of the opinion that it is a perfect day to hang out in a junkyard.

Rachel clears her throat. She says, "Is everyone assembled?"

She sweeps her gaze around the tiny lair she and Chloe have made their own.

Chloe glares back at her, arms folded. "Yes. Shockingly, I'm here. In fact, I drove _you_ here. Your eyesight is bad. We both know this. Yet even you should be able to tell that all two of us are present. Now, why did you drag us out here?"

Just because Rachel called Price out of the blue, and insisted on being driven to the junkyard on no notice, without giving a single clue as to why, is no excuse for Chloe to be an absolute misery.

"I have a surprise for you, and a story to tell. Once we're all gathered."

"Who else do we both know who's even still in the village? Dude, stop being so melodramatic and just tell me what's going on!"

It might just be that she's been missing Max, who's been in Seattle over recess, too.

Right on cue, a nervous voice calls from outside, "Hello? Rachel?"

Rachel sticks her tongue out at Chloe. "Surprise! In here, Caulfield, my love! You're just in time for roll call."

"Max?" Incredulity and delight mingle on Chloe's face. It's a welcome change from her sullen scowl.

Caulfield shuffles into their den, peering round as if in anticipation of lions.

The sight of her always soothes Rachel. She's perhaps the most awkward human to have ever existed, and yet it somehow suits her. She's like a fawn, her fumbling containing within it the promise of imminent grace.

Max smiles at Rachel and transcends to a higher state of existence at the sight of Price.

She opens her arms and says, "Chloe!"

Chloe bounds over and pounces hungrily on the smaller girl. Rachel watches them embrace, and kiss, and keep kissing, and not stop kissing.

Being a magnanimous mammal, Rachel gives them thirty seconds before she clears her throat again.

They break apart, Max flushed and Chloe unable to stop touching some part of her beloved.

Chloe asks, "When'd you get back? How'd you get here?"

"Less than an hour ago. Rachel called me and told me you'd be here." Max winces. "I, uh, got a lift from Victoria. I may have had to promise her we'd go to the movies with her and Brooke?"

"Hmm...will there be popcorn? And will we have to be social or can I just molest you all night?"

"Yes to popcorn. Probably to socialness. And define 'molest' before we go any further with that thought."

"Well, if you insist, Max! See, I've noticed you're kinda sensitive right around here, and-"

"Ahem. Fascinating as your badinage is, we have serious business to discuss. I now call this meeting to order."

Max and Chloe hold hands the whole five feet from the doorway to the rescue couch.

When they're sitting, Rachel says, "First point of order: Caulfield?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Hugs, you intolerable brute!"

Max giggles. There is mutual springing up from seats. There is hugging. 

Though she is but a slip of a thing, Caulfield gives good hug. She's a Goldilocks zone of grip strength and body contact. She's surprisingly warm, and her hair smells like the better class of orchard.

She is, in Rachel's considered opinion, the second best hug to be had in Arcadia Bay.

Rachel murmurs, "Welcome back, Max. I've missed you, girl."

"Thanks, Rachel. I've missed you, too."

When hugs are concluded, they can finally get to the meat of the meeting.

"The reason why I've gathered you-"

Chloe drags a cooler from under the couch. "Beer?"

Rachel frowns. "Price. Beer is not on the agenda."

"That's weird. It's on _my_ agenda."

"Fine! Beer me."

Max refuses with a dignified, "Yuck!"

Chloe sighs. "Sorry, Max. I know you don't really drink. If only someone awesome had thought to slip some emergency bottles of peach iced tea into this cooler, then...oh, wait! Someone did! Who could this superhuman have been?!"

"Hmm...was it...the Amazing Girlfriend?"

When further kissing and the first thrill of beverages have run their course, Rachel says, "Now, if I may proceed?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Whatevs."

"Such enthusiasm. I'm making a note of that."

"Rachel. I love you. But it's my day off. And _Max_ is back. Can we maybe get to the point?"

Max puts her hand on Chloe's thigh, quelling her with a single touch. "Hey. Rachel's worked up about something. Go easy, Chlo."

Rachel blinks.

Chloe scrutinises her. She says, softly, "Shit. Sorry, Rach. What's up?"

Rachel blinks again. She slumps in her chair. Her fingers, without permission, drum a tattoo on her beer bottle, in sync with her nervous heart.

Rachel says, "Dammit. Your photographer's eye, Max?"

"Nah, just the powers of friendship. What's wrong Rachel? How can we help?"

Rachel sighs. "I have a...situation. I need advice. But you need to hear the whole story, to make sense of it. It begins:"

* * *

It's a warm Fall day when Rachel learns the anguish of the squee unrealised.

* * *

"What? Seriously. What?"

"Chloe! Sh!"

* * *

Rachel is part of the spill of humanity that's trickling out of Blackwell's halls, pondering what to do with their burden of freedom.

It's an easy decision for Rachel. The day's too nice for the Vortex Club, or Avril Lavigne's ongoing collateral damage. Price has gone AWOL, the horror. Or just forgotten to charge her phone. There shall be words said, either way. _Pithy_ words.

* * *

"Oh, God, are you still going on about this? It's happened like, _two_ times, maybe three-"

"Price! Desist!"

* * *

While Price remains a source of eternal and mysterious delight, Rachel's in the mood for a quieter, more contemplative sort of companionship. The sort whose awkward dorkiness is counterbalanced by her humility in the face of astonishing talent; both traits dwarfed by a warmth of spirit which, once tapped, flows endlessly and is capable of thawing Rachel's frostiest moods.

In short, Rachel craves the company of Caulfield.

Rachel will admit that she makes mistakes, though rarely out loud. When she does, it's usually only to Price, who functions as something of an adjunct to Rachel's brain, anyway. To both parts of her mind, Rachel has admitted that Max Caulfield was almost her worst mistake, twice over.

First, she was dismissive of the girl, mistaking shyness for judgemental avoidance. Second, on approaching her at last in an attempt to fathom Caulfield's suitability as a match for Price, she wound up insulting Max.

Either error could have denied Rachel a friend. Luckily, as well as possessing more steel than Max herself thinks she does, Caulfield has a forgiving nature.

Caulfield is also funny, kind, a good ear. A good egg, all round.

And, highest praise imaginable, she's been great to, for, and all other conceivable prepositions, most pertinent being _with_ , Chloe Price.

Caulfield is thus a pal, a pal eternal.

* * *

"Aww! Rachel! You know I love you, too, right?"

* * *

These thoughts flit through Rachel's mind in all of an instant, and, with nothing more than a wave at a nearby Dana, Rachel extricates herself from the rest of her classmates and skips off to find the elusive Caulfield.

Rachel finds her quarry gone to ground in a quiet little cranny. She's sitting on the grass under a tree near the dorms, out of sight of anyone but a determined hunter.

Rachel is forced to clap her hands over her mouth.

Max Caulfield is a petite girl, possessor of thick and treacherous brown hair, delicate filigrees of freckles, and blue eyes. If her eyes, timid as they are, give you the slip, you might mistake her for pretty. Once catch her gaze, look deep into the blue, and you will realise just how badly you underestimated her.

* * *

"Dude, she's right here. You don't have to describe her."

"Yes she does! If that's how she's describing me, she totally does!"

"Hey! Stop captivating my girlfriend, Amber!"

* * *

Max is sitting with her back to the tree and her legs stretched out. She's looking down at her lap with a smile that Rachel fears will cause cavities at twenty paces.

This is not the (only) reason Rachel covers her mouth.

Chloe Elizabeth Price, in all her beanpole glory, is sprawled on the grass. There's a skull on her shirt. Boots and bracelets and buckles are her armour, rendered quite worthless by amour.

She has her head in Max's lap. Her sempiternal beanie has been discarded.

She is the recipient of both Max's smile and the slender fingers of her right hand, which comb through Price's short blue locks and scrape gently across her scalp.

Max's left hand is occupied by Chloe's, their fingers a love knot.

* * *

"Oh! Uh, you saw that, huh? Uh...how long did you stay...?"

"Chlo! Hush! Hush with urgency!"

* * *

It is not unusual to see Price giddy with excitement or surly with anger. Now though, she wears a dreamy wisp of a smile. Her body is a languid hammock. Her eyes are closed and her face serene.

Rachel has weathered the tumult of Chloe Price's Olympian emotions for years. She's found ways to make her laugh, and found silence when it's been needed. She's been with Price to sing, drink, dance, smoke, laugh, cheer, and let her favourite tops become Chloe's snot rags.

She's never seen that look on Price's face before.

Rachel feels no desire in that moment, but an imperative that, denied, would be an abnegation of self. A willing amputation of the psyche. It is the need to bear witness to something good in the world, to squee, and to be seen to squee.

But good and true as that squee might be, to intrude on that moment, to startle out of intimacy two people who struggle in different ways to publicly express intimate feelings, would be an act quite in opposition to the better sensibilities that provoke the squee.

* * *

"We kind of are cute sometimes, I guess..."

"Uh, no. We're badasses!"

* * *

Rachel retreats in confusion, only unclasping her hands when she's safely out of earshot. Even then, she allows herself but a whispered, "Oh. My. God!"

This is inadequate. This is too little. There must be more than this, or something will rupture.

Rachel is seldom at a loss. But there is no one here but the trees and a rather smug squirrel. Rachel's elation is nibbled at by the fangs of despair.

Deliverance appears in the form of Kate Marsh. She's a girl Max swears by. Rachel hasn't tried her yet.

Kate emerges from the dorms and heads towards the wider world with her bag, her phone, and a benevolent smile.

Rachel believes in signs from (strictly unspecified) higher powers. This is clearly a Sign.

She acts accordingly.

She leaps in front of Kate, grabbing the startled girl by the shoulders.

Rachel says, "MARSH! OH MY GOSH! OMG! Ijustsawthe _cutest_ sight! Price! Caulfield! Being all...aaaaaaaaah! I'm dying. I may die. My heart is mortal and not meant to contain so. Much. _CUTE!_ The sweetness is blocking my arteries. It's the way I've always wanted to go. AAAH! I think I'll be okay, now. Cancel the ambulance. But, really. The stories they'll tell of this day shall render Romeo and Juliet obsolete and get everyone to finally admit that the whole story is needlessly downbeat. It's too much. It's just right. I'm done. I'm good. Phew! Hi, I'm Rachel, by the way. Caulfield says you're the best. Let's be friends!"

* * *

"You...you didn't..."

"Oh, Max. She did. She absolutely did do that."

* * *

Rachel could have no way of anticipating that this would be the moment that would lead to her falling in like.

* * *

"Oh. Oh, Rachel..."

"Damn. I want popcorn, now."

* * *

And thus begin the Chronicles of Amber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading, folks!
> 
> I am bad at multitasking, and I've got another story on the go, and two in development that might some day make it into the world. I won't be updating this quite as frequently as _Not the End of the World_ , is what I'm saying. 
> 
> I'll aim for weekly(ish), at any rate, but I'll be taking my time to get things right, so it might be longer.
> 
> Oh, and, like everything I put up here, I'm experimenting and trying to learn on this story. Please do criticise away. I'll be only too glad to hear your thoughts on what works and what doesn't and what not.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again, and have a lovely day!


	2. The Vital Importance of Scones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back, with added Kate dialogue!
> 
> I do hope you enjoy it!

First impressions of a Marsh:

Kate's got the look of an innocent bystander. She's entirely unaware of the crimes of fashion being conducted under her very nose.

She's wearing a fussy navy cardigan, a shapeless skirt of indeterminately dark hue, a simple white blouse, and prim white ankle socks.

In a school without a uniform code, Kate's ensemble is the nearest thing to schoolgirl standard. Which has the effect of making Kate stand out, quite opposite to the intention, and not in a way that excites the better feelings in much of Blackwell society. 

It seems a shame that one of nicest girls at Blackwell should present with such over-starched propriety.

But for all her sartorial woes, she's still a picturesque Marsh. She's quite pleasantly fragrant. There's intelligence and warmth in her eyes. And, most important, she's Caulfield's boon companion.

Rachel decides that, with the ice broken, riven, reduced to cocktail-enabling splinters, she might as well get to know Kate here and now.

It's about then that Rachel realises she's still clutching Kate and that there has been a minute's silence observed for the passing of Rachel's dignity.

The silence is not _entirely_ awkward, but only because Rachel is too busy thinking to feel awkward.

Quite heroically, Kate says, "Um."

It's not the stuff of legendary raconteurs. Wodehouse would not feel threatened by this dialogue. Wilde would sniff at it. In the interests of full disclosure, it is not even, strictly speaking, a word.

But it is an attempt at communication, the necessary pile driver that allows for a foundation upon which an elegant bridge of discourse might be built.

Rachel squints at the situation through her mental theodolite and gets to work engineering a chat.

Rachel lets Kate go. She takes a step back. She says, "Sorry. That was an emergency, though. Excitement overload."

Kate's smile enters the scene with mild stage fright. "That was...a lot. Are you okay?"

"I'm over the worst of the giddiness. Are you alright? Are you experiencing any loss of hearing? I assure you, if you are, it's temporary."

Kate laughs.

Pause a moment.

* * *

"Do we have a choice?"

"Actually, if we're pausing, I've been wondering about bathroom breaks-"

"I think that eye twitch means no, Max. And also sh."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, that's fine. I'm fine..."

* * *

Rachel realises that she's never heard Kate laugh before.

Though they share more than one class, and at least one friend, they've barely done more than pass a 'hello' around a few times until now. And given how this conversation started, it's a wonder that there's been enough back and forth for Grice's Maxims to apply, let alone for there to be laughter.

While Kate's more of the genteel chuckle persuasion than the hearty guffaw, it's still clear on which side of amusement's rigid binary Kate's fallen. She's laughing _with_ Rachel.

Rachel's quite unprepared for how grateful she is at the acceptance which Kate's laughter implies.

Kate says, "There _is_ a faint ringing in my left ear...I might have to consult a doctor."

Kate smiles at Rachel. It's a nice smile.

* * *

"Oh, bullshit, Rach!"

"Excuse you, Chloe?"

"Oh, please, girl! Don't tell me you're buying this, Max?"

"What do you mean?"

"Dude, come on! 'Nice smile'? She's the Byronic woman describing you, and that's all she's got for her crush? Not buying it. That's all I'm saying."

* * *

The sharp upward trend in curvature in Kate's lip region suggests that she has not, in fact, suffered damage to her eardrums. Which suggests that...

Rachel says, "Wait! Is this Miss Kate Marsh? _Teasing_ me? How shocking! How delightful!"

"Well, you're making it quite easy for me to tease you, Miss Amber."

Rachel laughs. "Oh, gosh, I hope you'll take every opportunity to use this day against me for years to come."

"Oh, no! I won't do that. I just-"

"Marsh! I _like_ getting teased. I find I especially enjoy it when it's you doing the teasing."

"Oh! W-well...um, I'll have to bear that in mind."

Kate looks down, and is that a blush Rachel sees before her?

* * *

"Oh, God, Rach...you were flirting with Kate right out of the gate?"

"It wasn't like that, I-"

"Okay, whatevah! I'm just amazed she didn't run for it. Dude, she's almost as bad at handling that stuff as Max."

"Hey! Uncalled for!"

"Sorry, Max. But the ease with which you fluster is part of what makes you the cutest girl in the Bay."

"Oh, shush! I'm not...I mean, thank you, but...and, really, _you're_ the adorable one, when you...wait a minute! You...you set me up! I'm so not letting you sneak into my dorm tonight."

"Sooo...you want to crash at Joyce's?"

"That is not the point, but yes, but also you are not getting away with this! I'm withholding cuddling privileges, because you are a villain, and you need to be punished, and that is why you can't have the thing that you like."

"That won't really work, because as much as I enjoy cuddles, I like _everything_ you do, Max."

"You...you are a mean person, and not smooth, and why do you have to smell so good?"

* * *

It seems like time freezes when Kate catches sight of her watch. As if, in seeing what the time is, time itself slips a gear and the mechanisms of the universe halt in breathy wonder at what might happen next.

* * *

"Sorry, Rachel. Carry on with the story!"

* * *

There are many arguments to be made against shyness, but this one is the most pressing: if you insist on avoiding someone's gaze, don't wear a watch.

Kate, a creature full of bad habits, not the least of which is being so appealing on short notice, is guilty of both wearing a watch and looking down at it instead of at Rachel's entirely platonic smile.

Kate nibbles delicately at her lip. "Oh, dear. I don't mean to be rude, Rachel, but I need to go."

"That's alright. I'm the rude one! I'm lucky you're not secretly in MMA training, too."

Kate giggles. "Please, don't worry about it. I'm glad I was there in your time of need. After all, Samuel's the only other person nearby. You might've given the poor thing a heart attack."

"Hold your head high, Marsh. You've saved two lives this day."

"I think I've earned a scone with my tea, then."

"Oh, I really mustn't keep you if a mad hatter awaits!"

Kate beams at Rachel, not merely reflecting but _generating_ photons. "I love those stories! But it's more of an appointment, than an adventure. I am meeting a mad Max, though! Oh."

Kate's face falls, but it lands gracefully in a safety net of goodwill. She says, "I guess Max won't be joining me this afternoon."

"Caulfield is a popular lady, today."

"It's easy to see why. She's really sweet, and caring." Kate smiles, and fiddles with the cross around her neck. "And she's so much happier, now, with Chloe."

"They disgust me, being so perfect for each other all the time. It's a disgraceful way to behave."

* * *

"Hmph!"

"No comment."

* * *

Kate giggles. "Oh, we both know you don't mean that. You were just ranting about how cute they are."

"I was, and they are. But, really, Marsh, if they become _that_ couple, too busy mooning over each other to do anything useful, like, oh, alleviating our boredom whenever we demand it, I shall have to disown them. It will pain me, of course, particularly to lose Price, but I have principles, Kate."

* * *

"Still no comment."

"Double hmph!"

* * *

Kate's smiling broadly now, and with a prospect of either doing homework or making Kate laugh for the rest of the evening, Rachel makes the logical decision.

"Now, tell me everything about this tea business, Marsh. Spare no detail, however trivial."

"O-oh! Um, Max and I usually get together once a week to take tea and talk about...everything, really." Kate smiles wistfully. "Max likes to look over my photos, especially of Alice. Alice is my bunny."

"Which speaks well of you, since a rabbit is an excellent habit and Alice is an excellent name."

"You're too much, Rachel! Are you always like this?"

"Always! Except for when I'm not. You'll simply have to spend more time with me to unravel my mysteries."

* * *

"I guarantee she flipped her hair at that exact moment."

"Oooh, I've seen that. It's super effective!"

* * *

Rachel, hair entirely unflipped, says, "Now, it sounds like you and Caulfield have established a charming custom. My question is, must it be a Max that accompanies you, or could an Amber sub in, in an emergency such as this present crisis?"

"Oh! Um, I'm sure you must have better things to do..."

"Kate, please. I have a high opinion of Caulfield, and she has the highest of you. I know that was an...awkward introduction, but I would like to get to know you. And we are both at a loose end, now."

"Well, that _is_ true..."

"Besides, since we've established the life-saving rate, I believe I owe you two scones."

"Oh, no! I couldn't impose like that..."

"Would you be so cruel, Marsh? To leave me unable to repay my debt? I insist you let me impose on you and crash your tea date and that you impose on me to a limit of even up to five scones, with a minimum of two. No, three! If you say no for any reason other than a clear and present bunny emergency, I shall have to put you in my bad book. And I warn you, I have an actual book, Kate."

Kate hesitates, but only for a moment. "Alright. If you're sure. It _would_ be nice to get to know you properly. Max says nice things about you, too, you know! And I'd hate to be in anyone's bad books, so..."

"So?"

This time Kate's smile cordially invites Rachel to share in the small, sublime joy she's discovered. It's the sort of invitation that comes with gold leaf, and an RSVP, and no recrimination if you don't. Her lips, Rachel realises, are wine red against skin the colour of sunlight on a snowbank on a clear winter's day.

* * *

"Oh, yeah! Called it! You owe me ten bucks, Max."

"But I didn't even-"

"You can pay it off in cuddles, later."

"...fine."

* * *

Kate performs a dainty curtsy. "Miss Amber? Would you care to accompany me to tea?"

Rachel is not one of nature's blushers. She long ago wrote a strongly-worded letter to embarrassment, having decided to cancel her subscription to that particular service.

But being on the receiving end of Kate's smile causes a fine crimson mantle to drape itself across Rachel's cheeks. It makes her feel like her body is a sudden stick shift when she's been used to an automatic her whole life.

Rachel manages a grin. She doesn't trip over her own feet. She says, "I'd be delighted, Miss Marsh! Take me to the land of brewing leaves and bunny pictures!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! 
> 
> And do feel free to tell me your tea and scone preferences in the comments, should you feel so inclined.
> 
> I'm a decadent traditionalist when I do reckon with a scone, preferring a plain one with cream and jam. Tea, these days, is usually black and heavily favours a Chai with a splash of milk. 
> 
> I have also been known to Earl Gray, but seldom in public.
> 
> And at the risk of hubris, I will see you at a similar time next week with the third chapter!


	3. Tea and Unparalleled Evil

It takes Rachel a few minutes to recover her equilibrium. By the time she has mistressed herself, she and Kate are on the bus into the Bay.

Rachel is able to manage her end of their very small talk while making two observations.

The first, which briefly occupies a small part of Rachel's mind, is that Kate is a distractingly warm young creature.

They never quite touch, even sitting shoulder to shoulder. Rachel feels sweat form on her palms nonetheless.

When they're sauntering the streets at a respectable distance from each other, Rachel feels almost chilly.

* * *

"What are you sniggering about, Price?"

"N-nothing! Just coughing. Aha-ahem. All good, dude!"

* * *

The other thing Rachel notices is that Kate's confidence grows the further they get from Blackwell's grounds.

In the wildlands of Arcadia Bay, Kate seems to grow an inch. She's all toothy, toothsome grin. The dimmer switch connected to her eyes gets twiddled in the direction of eleven.

They reach their destination: the Bay Leaf, fabled hub of Arcadia's tea universe.

Kate skips ahead, exuberant at the prospect of moistened-leaf juice.

Rachel bites her lip.

Kate looks around and says, "Come on, Rachel!" Her grin slips when she sees the expression Rachel's left lying carelessly about her face. "Are you alright?"

Rachel, caught off guard, says the first thing that comes to mind. "Marsh, there's something I must confess. It might change things between us, but I must have this out in the open."

Kate comes over to join her. "What is it?"

"I don't drink...tea."

Kate looks away. Do Rachel's eyes deceive, or does her lip tremble?

* * *

"They deceive! Because you are less than well-visioned. And yet you won't wear glasses. Or even a monocle. Come on, you'd _like_ having a monocle, Rachel."

"Oh, man, I don't think I'd survive that glare through any kind of magnification."

"She's not glaring. She's squinting. You know, because she's-"

* * *

Kate's lip _definitely_ trembles and her voice quavers. "I see. You've lured me here under false pretences. What are your intentions, sir?"

Rachel advances on Kate. She sneers, "To feed you scones until you burst, Marsh. Then I'll have Alice to myself!"

Kate leans away. She throws a hand to her forehead and gasps. "No! Y-you cad! You'll never have her!"

"Cad, eh? I've never even been near a golf course! I have a conscience, you know."

"That was terrible!" Kate straightens up. "And do you really think golf is a worse crime than murder? Or bunny theft?"

"There are few crimes greater than golf, Marsh. Golf fashions being one of them."

Kate giggles. At Blackwell, she covers her mouth when she laughs. But here, she does no such thing, and that's interesting.

Kate's lips are quite interesting, too. Particularly at this proximate vantage. But only in the sense that Rachel wonders what sort of gloss-

* * *

"Wowser, you're blushing. You're blushing so hard! Isn't she the cutest? Can we keep her?"

"Down, Max! We're too young to have kids."

"You're not my mom! Um, I mean, obviously. Because I don't kiss my mom. Well, not like that. I mean, uh-"

"Rachel, please start talking. Right now."

"Well, I suppose we can discuss adoption if you want, Price. I'm not entirely opposed, but we'd need to talk allowances."

"Get back to the time you didn't kiss Kate, already!"

* * *

It's a well known fact that awkward things come in threes.

In this instance, Rachel realises that she's staring at Kate's lips at around the same time that Kate becomes aware that Rachel's standing very close.

While staring at Kate's lips.

The third awkward thing is the ringing of a bell.

This is a phenomenon that is easily explicable and not inherently embarrassing.

The Bay Leaf's door opens. There is a bell attached to the door. It jangles a merry jingle as someone steps through.

If this were all, then this third thing would rather nullify than intensify the first two awkwards.

But this is not just any someone that interrupts Rachel and Kate at a delicate moment.

Everyone is the hero of their own story.

Obvs.

But all the best stories have a villain.

This story, being _exceptional_ , has villains beyond count.

They possess the shrivelled souls of those who give cactuses as birthday presents.

They are the sort of people who won't sing a karaoke duet with you.

They scheme, grow moustaches, and tie innocent train tracks to people.

They are that one person who always insists that the correct plural is 'cacti'.

Their defeat is by no means a sure thing.

Consider this fair warning: a villain like no other is about to enter the scene. And though none there know it, Rachel's future happiness hangs in the balance.

* * *

"God, Rachel. It's never easy with you, is it? I-ouch!"

"Sorry!"

"You kinda crushed my hand, there, clingy. Max? You're not actually scared are you?"

"Pfft, no! Nuh uh. Sh! Rachel's talking. So rude, Chloe! Pleaseneverspeakofthis."

* * *

Rachel's nemesis is intelligent, certainly. Possessed of charisma, too. Not exactly charming, though. Not to Rachel's taste, but undeniably good looking. Some might even say attractive.

Nemesis spots Kate and Rachel as they blush and take a step away from each other. Nemesis bears down on them, smirking, and says, "Hey, ladies!"

And with that, the Dread Teen Warren has them trapped.

* * *

"Warren is your nemesis? Warren _Graham_?"

"I bet there's a hella epic duel. You kill him in the end, right? This is gonna be amazeballs!"

"Chloe! Uh, you should not want Rachel to kill people. And, reality alert, Warren is alive!"

"You've been gone for a whole week, Max. Do you really _know_ that?"

"Uh...is Warren alive?"

* * *

Warren is not, perhaps, true evil. But he is often oblivious to the feelings of others. He has little restraint. He has no subtlety. He is intrusive. He _lingers_.

He sniffs around some girls like...

* * *

"A Nazgûl in heat?"

"Chloe! Unfair!"

"Sorry, Max. I shouldn't bring Tolkien into this."

* * *

_Precisely_ like a Nazgûl in quest of the one ring.

For he _thirsts_. Warren could drain Hoover Dam's reservoir and remain unslaked.

Warren says, "Hi, Kate! Where's Max? Whoah! Is Rachel part of your gang now? Going for a _tea_ some are you?"

* * *

"Ugh! No. I can't."

"What's wrong? Was it the pun? I know it was a bad pun, but they're not all like that! Your golf pun was so good!"

"Dude. Max. No. Just...no. I'm sorry, but all puns are bad. You have to face facts, here."

"Not true! Though 'teasome' Warren's _pun_ ishment."

"There's a corner over there with your name on it, Max. You're headed for a time out, missy!"

"Price, don't confuse Caulfield by acting like her mother. Caulfield, it's not the puns. I just can't bear to repeat _his_ dialogue. I'm going to paraphrase the rest of his words."

* * *

Kate groans cheerfully. "Max isn't here Warren. Rachel's filling in."

"Thank you for informing me. I sure would like to fill Max in."

* * *

"Ew!"

"Seconded."

* * *

"Marsh and I are bonding, Warren. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be our solvent. Another time, maybe? Off you go!"

Kate looks taken aback. "Or if you're not in a rush, you're welcome to join us? We haven't hung out in a while, Warren."

"In spite of Max's absence, I would like to join you. Carnally. For sexy times. With my sex wiener."

"But Marsh! Our bonding time..."

Kate puts her hands on her hips and glares at Rachel.

"I need someone to make sure you don't slip arsenic into my tea, Ms. Bunnynapper! Warren wouldn't let you get away with that."

Warren laughs. "I do not understand the context of that remark, but I'm going to weigh in anyway. Arsenic, though a classic, is a poor choice of poison for the modern murderer. It is too easily detected during a post-mortem. Digitalis might serve better. But speaking of slipping things in, my penis-"

* * *

"EW! Come on, he is not _that_ bad!"

"He's worse. But you do need to stop, Rach. I'm fighting a losing battle with my gag reflex here."

* * *

The upshot is this: the Bay Leaf is abustle, yet there's room enough for two young women and one third wheel.

Rachel vows to never tell another living soul about the exact nature of the anguish she endures over the next hour.

But Sartre saw the unblinking truth of it. He's often quoted out of context. Two vital words are habitually cut out of his insightful formulation: Hell is other people _called Warren_.

On this, no more.

One thing of critical import does occur. Warren expounds endlessly on what he plans to wear for Dana's forthcoming Halloween party.

This fires the kiln of Kate's imagination. There is nothing fanciful to Kate's notions of fancy dress. She gives a suggestion only when she sees a practical way to give it form.

Kate's obvious excitement is intoxicating. It's enough to make Rachel stealthily text her acceptance of Dana's week-old invitation to said bash.

Yet when pressed by Warren on whether she'll attend, Kate's a mere mumbled, "Maybe."

Warren leaves at last. He cackles at his own parting quip like a misanthropic goose pushing a child into a lake.

Rachel waits until Warren is well away before leaning towards Kate. "So, tell me-"

But Kate glares at Rachel and snaps, "Rachel! What you did earlier was so rude! Warren is my friend."

"Oh." Rachel leans back. "Sorry."

"I'm not the one you should apologise to." Kate fiddles with her cross. She stares into the depths of her tea cup.

"I doubt he even noticed-"

Kate says, quietly, "Rachel. If you don't apologise to him, we can't be friends."

There is a pause. The entire tea shop goes still.

At length, Rachel groans. "Fine! I shall prostrate myself before him-"

Kate's lips turn down.

A master brewer notices a bead of sweat on his brow. It threatens to drip into the spout of a brewing pot, yet he dare not move.

"I mean, I'll apologise. Sincerely."

"I don't mean to be...dramatic. I just don't like to see anyone treated so dismissively. Do you understand?"

The master brewer whimpers in horror. The dew of his brow clings now to the very tip of his nose.

"I...do. I _am_ sorry, Kate. I get carried away. Sometimes. A tad."

Kate looks up, though only fleetingly.

"Only sometimes?"

Does Kate begin to smile?

The brewer's hand creeps toward his nose.

"One might say seldom, in fact. Only when I feel very strongly about something. Like you."

Kate blinks. "What do you-"

"I mean like you feel strongly about my rudeness!"

"It's rude to cut people off, Rachel."

The sweat falls.

But Kate smiles as she says it. Eye contact is reestablished.

Rachel smiles back.

In an Olympian display, the brewer catches the bead of sweat. There is a sigh of relief round the room.

On the surface, all is right with the world entire.

But within her heart, Rachel feels a pang. A series of pangs.

She decides that it must be shame. Kate wanted to spend time with Warren, and Rachel interfered. She feels the need to make amends.

There is, of course, no other reason for her heart to be troubled.

* * *

"Oh, God. Things are starting to add up. Oh, no. What did you _do_ Rachel?"

"Chloe, what are you...oh. Oh! The party. Wowser!"

* * *

Rachel is not one to let things fester. But she only really knows one approach to dealing with a problem.

She applies it.

"So, how long have you liked Warren?"

Kate's eyes widen. "W-what?"

"I submit to you that you blush quite frequently around the young man. Furthermore, you become a lioness in his defence. Confess, Marsh! Have you the hots for him?"

"I-I...suppose he's nice. And he is...cute."

That last syllable is very quiet. It is also very guilty.

"Cute like a mewing kitten or like he stirs the blood within the passionate chambers of your heart?"

"Rachel!" Kate squeaks, rapidly approaching some event horizon of blush.

"Very well, I'll refrain from further inquiry."

"I-"

"On an unrelated note, I've decided you're going to be my date to Dana's Halloween extravaganza."

Kate squeaks again. The substance of her argument this time is intelligible only to bats.

"Marsh. _Kate_. I was rude to Warren because I thought he was superfluous to our endeavours. Now I suspect that _I_ was the one in the way. I owe him an apology. And I owe you my services as a cupid, valet, and, I hope, friend. Let me take you to the party, where I'll pay my debts in full. Please?"

"I-I don't...I couldn't. I have so much-"

Rachel puts her hand over Kate's. She applies pressure enough to staunch the flow of excuses.

"Kate. If you don't want to go, that's okay. I think you do, though. But you're a bit nervous? Especially about going alone?"

Kate bites her lip. She nods, reluctantly.

"So let me take you. We'll stay only as long as you like. You don't have to talk to Warren, or any other cutie that catches your eye. But if you want to, I'll have your back. That's a solemn vow."

Kate sighs. "I have wanted to be more...social. I suppose it might be nice. I don't know about...boys, though."

Rachel rubs Kate's arm. "Nor do any of us, sweet Marsh. And I assure you, you need not rush to find out."

"Well..."

"Please, Kate? You can help me with my costume?"

" _That_ could be fun. I guess."

"And it means I won't have to go alone, either."

Kate shakes her head, smiling. "I don't think you'd have much trouble finding someone else."

"But I don't want anyone else, Kate. I must have you!"

"O-oh! Um, that's...wait! You're just trying to get me out of the way so your henchpeople can steal Alice. No, never!" Kate yells this last enthusiastically. She makes a dramatic gesture with her free hand.

A teapot, swept up in the enthusiasm, breaks into raucous applause on the floor.

There is a pause.

* * *

"Did you see that look?"

"I did. And I did not like it."

"We are not your henchpeople, Rachel!"

"Of _course_ you aren't! Now hush and listen to everything else I have to tell you."

* * *

After an exciting, but irrelevant, interval, they're giggling together on the sidewalk.

Kate recovers first. She gives Rachel a bemused look. "I was really annoyed ten minutes ago, Rachel. I can't believe I'm going to Dana's party with you."

Rachel grins. "You are?"

"I am. Somehow."

"Of course you are! It's what I do," Rachel explains, modestly.

Rachel feels a sudden onset of inexplicable joy. She offers Kate the crook of her arm.

Kate giggles and slips her arm through Rachel's. They make their pleasant way like this to the bus stop.

"Are you going to escort me everywhere like this?"

"Everywhere! Always! It shall make bathroom visits challenging, but we shall overcome!"

"That's so wrong! I'm beginning to suspect you're no kind of gentleman, Ms. Amber."

"Oh, I'm better than that. I'm a rogue in need of redemption."

Kate gives her a funny look. She squeezes Rachel's arm. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

Rachel looks at Kate, puzzled by her serious tone.

But right at that moment the bus looms on the horizon.

Rachel cries out, "Come, Marsh! Quick! Or we'll be late for a very important date!"

Laughing and clinging to each other, they run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last time I make a joke about hubris.
> 
> As a general advisory, I'll be away for a bit. I should have something out towards the end of next week, but you'll have to wait a couple of weeks for the next chapter of this.
> 
> I think.
> 
> I mean, really, do I look like I plan _anything_?
> 
> Thanks for tuning in! See you next time!


	4. These Are Not The Feels You're Looking For

It's a fine Spring day in Arcadia Bay.

Chloe Price says, "What kind of bullshit is this? Why is it eight in the morning?"

Max Caulfield yawns. "It's something to do with the ancient Egyptians, I think?"

"What're you why now?"

"The 24-hour day. I think it's based on ancient Egyptian timekeeping."

"I mean why are we _here_? _Now_?"

 _Now_ is 8.04 am on a Saturday. _Here_ is the legendary Two Whales Diner.

Max and Chloe are sharing a booth. In fact, they're sharing one side of a booth. The other is empty.

"Because we're meeting Rachel. You're working tonight, and she said she's got lots more to get through."

Chloe groans and lowers her head onto the table. " _She's_ a lot to get through." 

Max just smiles. She brushes the strands of faded blue hair poking out from under Chloe's beanie. Her hand comes to rest on Chloe's neck. "You letting it grow?"

Chloe nods as much as can with her face pressed against the table. "For a while. See how it looks. Haven't had long hair in years."

"Changing the colour, too?"

"Thinking about it. Might go green." She turns enough to give Max a little smile.

Max strokes Chloe's neck. "Hm. I've heard it's not easy being green.

Chloe snorts. She pushes herself upright again. She gently takes Max's hand and gives it a squeeze. "You talk to Kate?"

"Yeah. Rachel's been avoiding her. Kate says she's not sure what's going on."

Chloe sighs. "I wish Rachel could process her feelings like a normal person. Y'know. Sulk and hide and give people shit for no reason?"

"You've got a real future as a counsellor ahead of you."

"Aw, thanks!" Chloe squeezes Max's hand again. "I guess for now we just hear her out? Do you think there's something else we can do?"

"I think the best way to help...I guess we're already doing it."

Chloe suddenly grins. Her eyes glow. "Heh. You know, we totally are doing it!"

Max rolls her eyes. "You're such a dork!"

"Well, you're a nerd."

"Doofus!"

"Hippie!"

It's pretty much just kissing after that, until Rachel arrives.

Rachel watches the distracted couple fondly for a moment before sliding into the seat opposite them.

"Good morning! I'm not sure why I make sweeping and magnificent entrances anymore. You two are never paying attention."

Chloe and Max disentangle as much as they ever do.

Which is to say that while they might look like they've separated, if Rachel were to stretch out her legs, she's quite sure her feet would find that their feet are touching.

Chloe yawns cavernously. "Hey, Rach. Good to see you. Now. Feed meeeeee." 

Max sighs, but there's no mistaking that look on her face. "Chloe! Behave! Good morning, Rachel. How're things?"

Rachel smiles at them both. "Things are well enough, Caulfield. I don't think I need to ask how you are, do I?"

Max blushes. She leans into Chloe's side. "I'm good."

Chloe wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Yeah. All good this side of the booth. Apart from, y'know, the hunger crisis. So let's order and then we'll get back into this."

Rachel smiles. "That's the spirit! Chronicles Part Two, with a side of bacon!"

"Other way around, Rach. Bacon is _always_ the main event."

"You never begin to surprise me, Price."

"Hey, Joyce? We're ready to order."

"And I'm ready to resume the tale."

* * *

In any story, there are lulls.

Life, often poorly scripted, contains many more of these than average. The inclination in telling this is to skip past the drudgery and go straight to the best bits.

But it is in this period, partly because things fail to happen, that Rachel really begins to understand the deadly nature of her situation.

Though the weeks that follow Kate and Rachel's first triumphant encounter see the two spending more time together than had hitherto been exampled in Blackwell's fabled history, false impressions must be avoided.

If this were a romantic fable, perhaps this is the juncture at which Kate and Rachel would grow ever closer as a montage of wholesome activities plays out.

In fact, pursuits suitable for judicious editing _do_ occur in these weeks. How could they not?

Kate is a cutie of the first order; she is a girl with great reservoirs of silliness and a gentle wit. These qualities are most often expressed in her art, but are provokable in other contexts.

Rachel is an enthusiastic provocateur. She is known for the boldness with which she approaches society. She is understood to be one who, when she cuts loose, as a collateral consequence, encourages the wilder sides of those in her proximity.

Rachel and Kate are different in many respects, but kindred in this sense: each hopes to elevate the spirits of others. Their methods may vary, but surely they are united in purpose!

Surely the montage must follow! Roll the montage!

* * *

"Okay, let's maybe switch Rachel to the decaf..."

"Dude, when she's like _this_ , you just gotta ride it out."

* * *

Picture the scenes as they unfold! Kate and Rachel collaborate on Halloween costumes. They braid each other's hair! The stay up late, talking about...

Ah. There's the rub.

And it is quite certain that Hamlet did not have spa days in mind when he said that.

On the surface, all should be a smooth and seamless bonding of two girls well-suited to each other. One introvert, but needing only an excuse to come out of her shell and dazzle the world. The other extrovert, but, in some yet to be defined way, not entirely perfect.

Drop the soundtrack from the montage at the right moment, though, and you'll find dialogue from the wrong kind of production.

As an example, this is a moment that occurs during an evening otherwise spent happily cutting and sewing under Alice's benevolent, twitching nose.

* * *

"Uh...Rachel? Are these...scripts? You want us to _perform_ this?"

"Dibs on Kate!"

* * *

(One week before Dana's party, Kate and Rachel are engaged in amiable banter in Kate's dorm room)

(Kate is sitting at her desk, carefully cutting fabric. Her long hair is not in its habitual bun, but a rather lovely French braid. Kate is a winsome young thing, possessed of warm dignity. She keeps her gaze on her work.)

Kate (confused, adorable): "So that's it? You just drove back to Blackwell?"

(Rachel is sewing with steely-eyed determination. She sports pigtails, courtesy of Kate's nimble fingers. She smiles the happy smile of the raconteur with an engaged audience.)

Rachel: "Not quite. Everything was fine, until Dana woke up."

(beat)

(Kate turns in her seat. She raises her eyebrows.)

Kate: "Why was that a problem?"

(beat)

Rachel: "Because that's when she said, 'Guys? I found my keys. But this isn't my car...'"

Kate (gasping): "You stole someone's car?"

Rachel: "Borrowed, I assure you! We took it right back when we realised."

Kate (fighting a losing battle with a smile): "I'm horrified, Rachel. All these stories you tell! You'll corrupt poor Alice!"

Rachel (twirling an imaginary moustache): "Perhaps that's my plan, Marsh! To win your bunny over to my side."

Kate: "I think you're both on the same side already."

(beat)

(The two work in convivial silence.)

Kate: "Rachel? Can I ask you something?"

(Rachel glances up from her own endeavours. Hers is a grin that could substitute for footlights when theatre class has a power outage.)

Rachel: "Only if it's _shockingly_ personal!"

(Rachel resumes her sewing.)

Kate (pensively): "Why are you in the Vortex Club? I mean, I get why you like Dana and some of the others, but..."

(Rachel is normally adept at reading the room. Perhaps her intense focus on making sure Kate's costume will be perfect distracts her.)

Rachel (breezily): "If one is to be a boulevardier, one must have a club. And the VC may be crooked, but it's the only club in town."

(Kate abandons her work. She gives Rachel what the uncharitable might call a glare.)

Kate: "I'm serious. Some of them are really mean. They...bully people."

(Rachel looks up, startled.)

Rachel (with such gentleness as a mother cat uses when grooming her favourite kitten): "Marsh? Has someone been hassling you?"

Kate: "That's not the point, Rachel. I'm trying to understand you. You're not a bully. But some of your friends...I mean, you hang out with Victoria!"

Rachel (floundering): "Well, yes. We're not exactly friends, but...Victoria's not as bad as she acts, Kate."

Kate: "She's bad enough. I don't understand why she has to be so cruel to everyone. She's so spiteful to Max!"

(Rachel shifts uncomfortably. She suspects but cannot adequately express her suspicions. Her lips are embalmed in secrets. She is distressed. Yet she is stoic, letting nothing show. Yet the audience should still be able to tell something is amiss. But not from her expression. From her aura!)

Rachel: "They're not all like Victoria, Marsh. I know some of them can be...unpleasant."

(beat)

Rachel: "But I think that's normal, unfortunately. Not that I condone the behaviour, but-"

Kate: "I suppose I shouldn't condemn them, either. It's just..."

(A beat of silence so thoroughly strained it could be served in a teapot.)

Kate: "Go back to that other story you were telling. Where did you say Trevor hid the goldfish?"

(Curtain falls on their quiet voices and a ripple of relieved laughter.)

* * *

"Brava! Caulfield, not bad! But lacking chutzpah. You must work on your sewing mime. And your aura...well. I'm afraid I didn't _feel_ it."

"I'm really not sure about some of these stage directions..."

"Price? Surprisingly good Marsh, I must say!"

"Thanks! I just did my Max impression, but acted tougher."

"I'm totally sure you both suck."

* * *

There are three chief reasons for these failures of communication in an otherwise cordial relationship.

One is, quite simply, that Rachel is busy. In the weeks in question, the two have few opportunities to hang out and develop true rapport.

To the uninitiated, Blackwell Academy might appear to be a kind of school. And certainly, Rachel's got a 4.0 to maintain. This does require some effort.

But there is also a greater truth which Rachel has realised: Blackwell is a nation, brimming even to the gills with tales of fascination, horror, triumph, and despair.

Rachel has a knack for finding her way into those tales.

Take, for example, the case of Dana and the Drained Doughnuts. By chance, Rachel discovers Dana weeping over the desecrated snacks one morning and is immediately swept up in the disturbing case.

It's a fascinating story in its own right, and one that occupies some of Rachel's time in the run-up to the party.

* * *

"Hard no, Rach. We're not doing side missions."

"Yeah! Get back to Kate, right after the doughnut story."

"Maaax..."

* * *

Summing up that case, Rachel is able to put an end to what might have become an unchecked spree of treat-related perfidy. First, by reference to Mr Dulcimer's rather fastidious catalogue of Biology equipment and, second, by a few words in Justin Williams' less fastidiously hygienic ear.

This is but one example of the rich and varied nature of life at Blackwell. It is so full of intrigue, it's difficult for Rachel to wrench herself away from the pursuit of mystery. Perhaps there is someone out there who could hear about the Adventure of Prescott's Foot and say, "I feel no thrill at the prospect of hearing more. Kindly leave off."

Rachel is not that person. She's the person who spends hours interviewing suspects in an effort to understand the reasons why Nathan Prescott chose to wear sandals for three consecutive days in late October and does not consider that time wasted, even if she never finds the truth.

* * *

"Huh. He started wearing nail polish, too, didn't he? I forgot about that."

"Oh, wowser, that's right! It was pink and sparkly. It was kinda cute..."

"SpaRitual's Diamond Glitter, if you're interested in applying some yourself, Caulfield."

"Well, looks like we've solved _one_ part of the mystery, Rach. Also, do the main story!"

* * *

Passing by a dozen lesser tales, the truth is this: busy as Rachel is, Kate still occupies no small part of her attention.

One reason that they don't immediately embark on solving mysteries together, though, and the second thing that stifles them, is that Kate proves to be every bit as busy as Rachel.

Rachel knows that there is a Bible study group at Blackwell, headed up by Kate Marsh.

What Rachel _learns_ is that Kate is not to be found sitting in her room most evenings, defending her bunny from the petting of sinister fingers.

No, Kate is out doing volunteer work all around Arcadia Bay. Hospital visits, house calls on the ill and the elderly, blood drives, church bake sales...the list is as seemingly inexhaustible as Kate is.

To find Kate Marsh on any given day is simple. Just seek out the nearest and noblest cause. There she'll be, taking life's lemons and squeezing them into cups of Earl Grey tea.

Then presumably drinking the foul concoction herself, her heroism knowing no limits.

Rachel begins their proper acquaintance feeling odd around Kate Marsh. On the eve of Dana's party, she merely feels awed.

While this might seem like a development in the proper direction, intimacy requires equality. Rachel does not feel Kate's equal in those early days.

* * *

"Aw, Rachel! "You don't still feel that way, do you? About Kate, I mean."

"...no. Not really. And I get that part of the problem was that she felt something similar."

"You can have that effect, Rach..."

"But you have to realise things are different now. You and Kate are-"

"You're jumping ahead of the story, you two! Hush!"

* * *

There is one more factor to consider to account for the sometimes stilted, sometimes stunted quality of Rachel and Kate's interactions during this period.

Her enthusiasm for the party, for the costumes, for the opportunity to explore the myriad wonders of Blackwell society are genuine. And yet, they are also sleights of her mind.

Rachel begins to realise that they obscure something she doesn't want to know.

That she has a crush on Marsh.

Because Rachel's chief enthusiasms become pouncing on Marsh after class and dragging her to lunch. Or spending time in her dorm room, playing with Alice and trying to make Kate laugh. Or...

* * *

"Safe space, Rach."

"Yeah. We're not going to judge. I mean...look at us! We've got it so gross for each other."

* * *

Or setting her alarm early so she can listen to the faint sound of Kate's violin in the morning.

It's impossible, of course. For several reasons. So Rachel tries to focus on being Kate's friend and her wingwoman.

But for all the industry of their labour, for all the treacherous excitement that builds in Rachel at the prospect of escorting Kate to the ball, the Dread Teen Warren still hangs between them.

Whenever Rachel spends time with Kate, there comes a point when she must remind herself that Kate's interest in Dana's bash is in part at the opportunity to further her relationship with _that_ incorrigible factory of overstimulated hormones. In spite of Rachel's vow to assist Kate, this thought breeds a cloud of despair that fills the room like an enthusiastic German Shepherd coming in from a run on a rainy night.

* * *

"You _do_ still feel that way about Warren, right?"

"Price! Of _course_ not!"

"I can see you've got your fingers crossed, Rachel."

* * *

Uncomfortable as it is to relate, it is quite possible that Rachel would never have gotten over her despair. It is quite possible that she and Kate would never have broken through the barriers that prevented them from becoming friends rather than merely being friendly.

It is quite possible that the next chapter would have been the last chapter of this tale.

But just as the stage is set at last for Halloween, the spotlight is ready to blaze on a new character. One who will help bring Rachel and Kate closer together.

Is this a new hero come to assist?

Oh, no.

See there! That twisted shadow spilling out from the wings?

There waits our second villain.

Impatiently. With arms folded and foot tapping.

Victoria. Maribeth. Chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Sorry it took so long to get here!
> 
> Next time: The Party Already.
> 
> When? Two weeks! Promise.
> 
> Good night!


End file.
